I share a poem.



You are ours
(for Leigh)

I saw you sleeping this morning
with the birds
And in your drawing or swaying
I saw that curve
Of your construction in composition
with the lies
From one who truly wants your destruction
for you to die
But in your quiet shallow breathing
I see the truth
No one can shatter its peaceful moment
eternal loop
That He who loves you has ever given
by His own grace
No confrontation nor condemnation
no, not one trace
No matter spoken 'gainst His beloved
will e'er remain
For you, my lover are His completely
and mine today.

Discouragement

"Therefore encourage one another, and build up one another, just as you also are doing."
1 Thess. 5:11 NASB

Admitting my own discouragement, I have to be encouraged by this passage from the Bible. It is an admonishment to continue to be encouraging. "Just as you also are doing," speaks a ton of the Thessalonian act of giving comfort to the faith and the faithful. Yet they must have also been discouraged enough in their pursuing the right to need a little more encouragement.

I often feel the same. Destined to confront the truth, it seems, that doing God kind of stuff just doesn't feel good, leave you laughing or make you a millionaire, I often just feel like it is not worth it. It doesn't have the result I would wish. It leaves me feeling empty. And on top of it, our culture says you must be lacking somewhere if all you do for the Lord (if you are a believer) continues to end up in poo. Where is the miracle? Where is the great movement of God and His mighty power saving the world, restoring the down-trodden and SETTING THE CAPTIVES FREE?

I think I am feeling sorry for myself. About 30 years of service to God and yet I have arrived back where I started. Is this another moment of faith? Is it another opportunity for God to reveal Himself? Or am I just like the rest of the world, hoping for a miracle, but waiting for the norm?

In the last few days I have had way too much time to think about all these things.

On the birth of grandchildren

I became a grandfather again on January 17th. This child, my third grandkid, was born in the same town where I live and born to my daughter. This made it special for obvious reasons.

The first reason, proximity, was a powerful lure into the realm of emotion. I got to be there, or at least as "there" as a daughter would let her dad. The little critter arrived at her appointed time with minimal impact to mom. I was very thankful for that as I am sure was my new grandchild's mommy.

The implication of proximity about burst my mind with visions of outings, sleepovers, and the lot. No matter the challenges that every new mom has, or even the specific ones that this mom has, it was intoxicating to think of being able to bounce that dear lamb on my knee almost as often as I would want.

The second reason, my daughter, made this child full of the potential love a normal dad would have transfered and augmented to his daughter's daughter. There is just something about a baby girl to stir the heart. And, I am no different. My heart is stirred. I am smitten by a little black haired cherub (as I was, by the way, when I delivered her mom into my arms).

I can only hope that this new relationship will have as strong an ending as its beginning.

Rather than shooting from the hip

I apologize straight way. Sorry for the mess; the goo from my brain. It is there and it must come out. So, not firing from the proverbial hip, I will be sharing from the heart, deceitfully wicked as it is.

Today I find myself recovering from gall bladder surgery. What a pain! Eating has never been a real problem for me, but the doctor says it has been all along. The "healthy" American diet of food without end of quantity or quality has caught up to my body and slain my gall bladder. The pun assaults me, but I cannot bring myself to release it (gall darn it!).

In preparing for my surgery, the doctor told me to eat nothing for 24 hours prior to the event and only clear liquids until midnight the night before. I was amazed that I wasn't craving food that whole day. I wasn't hungry in the least and that thought kept coming to mind all day. "I'm not hungry. I mean, I'm not hungry!" I should have been by all American red-blooded standards. I should have been wiping drool off of my face at the sight of every street corner fast foodie. I should have been moaning to all my friends how miserable I was, but I wasn't.

I will have to think about that one a little while longer. Perhaps I duped my mind into submission or maybe I just didn't need the super-triple-combo-sizer-meal. Maybe I got a glimpse of what I have become. Maybe I got a new view of the blub-boy. Maybe I got a picture of the waste (I couldn't help it) of it all. Fluffy duck! That's what it is.

Anyway, I am recovering. Four small holes are all the doctor left. They are healing nicely. My only wonder is if I will be able to heal the greater disease of eating my way to death. Fluffy duck!